Everyone needs a rabbit hole to jump down, our holes may be in different environments but they all lead to the same place, an escape.

Darling you've become my angel of the night with the heavenly aurora of your soul,

Our nightly talks have quickly become the brightest part of my day.

You're a sun that's enveloped the moon in its entirety, enough light to illuminate the deepest depths of the ocean entirely.

You're the angel of the night,

It feels like all will be alright.

This is a dedicated poem to she who, is beautifully mysterious.

To she who sees how crude the world can be and only wish is to bring change to it.

To she who is a cancer trying to rid the world of that which is cancerous,

To she whose energy echoes through your skin and rumbles in your veins so thunderous.

To she whose eyes draw you in like galaxies that make you feel as if no other sight can compare to this,

To she who gives light to the darkness of the night.

To the goddess, the moon,

To she who waters life,

with such a love that even a seed neglected of light,

Buried in mud,

Shall one day bloom.

This is a dedicated poem to you,

To she Who, made me feel less blue yet feel more blue.

To she was is exactly like me, while being the most independent soul I ever knew.

Have you ever loved someone so much
                                you feel your heart more?

Not an expression, no literally they make
                                                  your heart sore.

When you know they're your heart

and you are their armor.

But what happens when karma
                  turns right around and bites you.

So the one you most adore then turns on
                                                you to spite you.

"Spoke as if my armor now it seems as if
                    you forgot what it is inside you."

Your smile was the thought, the only one
                                               I'd sleep tight too.

Many moons have since passed yet I still
      struggle to sleep a whole night through.

I keep on having this dream.

Why do I keep dreaming this dream?

Where there's a sun gleamin', birds singin'

It's spring and, to my side lays a queen and,

I smile as I go to kiss her, tell her I miss her

She goes "baby I'm so warm your eyes
                might be stars is what I'm thinkin'.

Next thing I know it's just me standing in
                                                           the mirror.

These ******* walls must be talking cause
                                         **** I can hear em.

They're saying don't you dare take for
               granted what you've lived through.

You got one more chance so **** it you
                                                                ­      fight.

For all that pain endured better not be
                                                         for nothing!

Now go out there before it's too late and
show even pain can be good for something!

I walk out to 20,000 people cheering out
                                                           their seats.

Throwing roses at my feet, it's oh so loud!

When I open my mouth a hush falls over
                                                            ­the crowd.

Like wow, this is what being an artist is all
                                                             ­       about.

"Remember when you spoke as if you were
                                                           my armor?

What beauty, for what has become of you
                                           the perfect martyr."

"Here comes a poem of my heart, before
       I depart. Let my words be your armor."

Just know that,

When I'm gone just carry on, don't mourn,
rejoice every time you read my words feel
                                                            ­  my voice.

And just know that,

I'm not underground, you'll see when the
     suns around, me looking down... Smilin'.

So just feel my voice whenever you're
feeling pain, and know that I feel the same.

                                               *And smile back

This is the story of A boy whose name is unimportant, and to tell this story we'll have to go back in time.

To Samantha, A name which left foot prints  in his mind so enormous that he oftentimes could only remember his own in portions.

See? Such a name is why this boys name is so unimportant, and as for his story? Well we'll have to go back to a time where in his mind, a sense of time is precious and rare to find. Even his sense of mind is torn to portions.

Yet another of the boys increasing misfortunes from Samantha, and her foot prints ever so enormous.

So when the boy decides to try to go back in time to recall the crime which left him oh so distorted, when a robber bearing Samantha for a name rushed into his endorphins. To a time when his cerebral cortex was a door, and a name was its door henge.

He says;

"To tell this story of mine we must go back to a time when- well... when the colors first ceased to shine"

Gloomy on sunny days
Shadows not a house or tree
Looming through every phrase
These shadows stick very close to me

Hell as far as the eye can see
Hell as dark as an ocean's deep
Hell as my new reality
Hell as a sacrilegious promise I
Couldn't keep

"Promises man I promised"
                                      I offer my soul for you
                                                         to harvest

"Promises man I promised"
                              Allow my words to become
                                                   your harness

"Promises man I promised"
                                 Crossed my heart but lets
                                                          b­e honest

"Promises man I promised"
                               Then let you plunge to the
                                         depths of darkness

"Promises man I promised"
                    Then these shadows crept inside
                                                   my conscious

"Promises man I promised"
                  It's hard to feel love when feeling
                                                oh so heartless

"Promises man I promised"
                Your love sang I wouldn't dare ****
                                                       the harpist

"Promises man I PROMISE"
         My words will sing love back this time
                                                       *as an artist

I’m reaching out to all with a love of writing poetry to collaborate on a project I’m working on. The more the merrier! All poets will be tasked of telling “A Poetic Tale.” Poets will be given complete creative control on the style of their work so long as it fits in the broad structure of the project. If interested or know of someone who is, contact me and more details will be given! SERIOUSLY THE MORE ARTISTS WE GET THE COOLER THIS WILL BE! YOU DON’T NEED TO FOLLOW ME TO BE INVOLVED JUST MESSAGE ME AND I’LL GIVE YOU THE DETAILS.

I cleansed myself of my bad habits.

I cleansed my lies with the truth.

Day by day our love fought, until year number two.

My fear of losing you was the roof,

Our lips met I wish they'd have stuck together like glue.

I was ready to take the leap to the deep oceans blue,

You opened the door just for me to walk through.

Saying the type of love I wish for isn't with you.

Desperate for company on my lonely walk home,

I lit a cigarette if only I'd known...

I thought cleansed my bad habits if only I knew,

To cleanse my bad habits I had to cleanse myself from

You.

I often dream of a faceless queen. We own a small apartment, we laugh, we drink, and spend our time creating art within the four walls of a small room on a large bed. We’d go out with the sole destination of adventure. Make memories together and build a bond never to be severed. I often dream of a faceless queen. One day I hope to wake up from this dream to a Queen, with a smile that’s not so faceless to me.

Happiness is merely the control of depression. Acknowledge  depression as a necessary existence in your life. Letting it run its course and violently destroy in silent mayhem. Letting its pain, its blank, numbness of all feeling whilst at the same time in unexplainable fashion, the most horrendous type of pain ever felt, happen. Let it feel as if, all that which once burned so beautifully within you crumbles as ash in your blood. Ash being evidence passionate fires once danced there.  

However, don't ******* dare let depression control how you bask in the bliss of its absence. Bask with dance, bask with that one song you always blast in the car with your best friend and as soon as it comes on, you just look at each other and sing loud with your head out of the car window, bask in bliss as if you were the sun that basks in clear blue skies.

Sharing a shine which somehow seems brighter, with the songs of the birds playing tunes of a deeper love, and the warmth of rays you've always liked yet took for granted become ever so lovely following a harsh, seemingly endless winter.

Let depression happen, it's never for forever. You can't control when depression will come, just as we can't control the weather. Like the clouds, depression will leave the sky in time to bask in more sunshine.

Things will get better, it will all happen naturally. Depression will come and go in an endless loop throughout life, though, like a pesky fly trapped in a room it will blindly and anxiously wisp and weave its way deep within our souls, but like flies depression will always look for a way out. Even if we open the door immediately, flies will move with anxiety, they want to leave though don't realize a wall is there until they've already hit it. They'll linger, get lost and give up for awhile. We can open the door and watch with anger until we come to mirrior the fly, become anxious, why won't this fly leave? Maybe this fly is here to stay? You wake up everyday to sunshine beeming in your face, until one day you could no longer ignore it, so you open your door to leave and enjoy it, coming home to notice the fly left with you, and didn't come back. Happiness is merely holding the door open for depression to leave.

Charles Bukowski once said,

"Find what you love and let it **** you"

Have you ever submitted to something and let it willfully abuse you?

Get lost in the mirror, stare deeply into the depths of those irises, are you the same you?

Do you notice a difference?

If you can't see as clear as day that you grew two,

Hundred feet spiritually and mentally

Then it's time to think critically or rather better yet think simply.

That wasn't the type of love that is true.

My only talent is breathing

Your only talent is leaving

Talent as leaving me
breathless

You stole my only talent
now I'm talentless

Yet a talent kept
a talent with pride you possess

You got quite a talent for leaving

I lost balance when you left

I lost talent when you left

I just wish you were leaving my breathe

But I'm a talentless mess
you're leaving with my talent

I just want one last breathe.

Once in a lifetime someone will come

You'll realize why past relationships never blossomed

Once in a lifetime you'll find a fresh breathe of air

Someone who will bring life to colors since faded

Bring love to that which once hated

Once in a lifetime someone will make you feel as if the world is a museum

Once in a lifetime you will be staring at its masterpiece.

And you'll stare forever.

"that was one hell of a"-
                                                        "Night?"

"I mean you do got yourself one hell of a vibe"

When I'm with you
Under the moon
I can see so true.

And "Truthfully that's one hell of a mind."

You say I'm *"one hell of a anti"-
                                        "social at times?"

"Truthfully I'm social just a little too"-
                                           "Soulful at times."

But "You like to show your soul too! And to me that's so cool!"

"How we can feed off each others energy."

"I guess that's what they're calling soul food."

"There's demons all in my head,
eating my feelings for food,
crawling in my soul for a bed,"

She goes "But all those demons aren't you! They're in for quite a surprise.
There's no space for my love.
Allow me to make room."

For sheltered demons whom we despise
"That was one hell of a hiest."

Stole these demons with the bright words she spewed.

Gave them no where to hide.

Brought them to light,

we watched them burn
as we watched the sunrise.

"That was one hell of a night."

Now my hearts **"one hell of a paradise."

That shortcut, she's a beauty
but not one worth the commitment.

What's the point of a beauty if it leads to a life you cannot live with?

But that beauty, I mean she had me all confused.

The type of beauty that just has to be too good to be true,

But what the hell was I to do?

I've grown sick and tired of the endless days of blue,

I thought perhaps the universe decided it was time for the sun to shine through.

This beauty is the kind to both paralyze and blind you.

The sayings go:

"Put your best foot forward."

Trying I am to

"Start off on the                           right foot."

I've always believed my       right to be best,

but perhaps that is why I am

always left,

walking through oceans of blue.

There's another saying a genius once wrote:

"Insanity is simply doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results."

I mean I was literally moved by that beauty,

but that wasn't the                           right foot.

So before you dare follow with your

left, just remember this.

A shortcut no matter how appealing is better off

left.

Just remember this, sometimes you leave your best foot back,

So when you stray off your path,

You'll be one step closer back.

                                                                      Right


Left

                                                                      Right

Left

                                                                      Right

Left


I've always put what I believed as my best foot forward but,

I've never

left                                                               right.

So now I will again attempt to start again, on the    

                                                             right foot.

I’m constantly being ****** by the ******. Trapped in a pitiful existence believing things blindly since birth. Normalized and Christian born ****** people, exclaiming, proclaiming, spiteful ****** people damming heathens to hell. Hell is for the living, the dead don’t go there.

It always ends the same another pile of ashes,

That once started as a flame.

Another tragic ending to one of my many bad romances but this is nothing new.

She says I don't see a happy ending even if you grew to a better you,

I still think I could do better boo.

So if you ever see her I advise you to go speak to her,

But call her by her real name it's Peter,

Because the day I said I think I can do better too is the day I seen her petty grew.

It's dark out, A cold winter night.

Awfully lonely even for me.

A howl echoes throughout the silence, my heart drops.

A howl that entered through one ear and echoed loud for my soul to hear.

Would it be sinister to say I smiled knowing I wasn't the only one here?

A smile becomes a sarcastic laugh of desperation, being ironic I joined with crying howls to the moon.

Before I could finish the wolf howls again.

I learned something that night, I solved the answer to love.

Find your moon, find someone who brings light to your darkness.

Find someone who, when you feel like a lone wolf with a numb soul; Will be your moon to howl to.

We'd be a beautiful love song.

I learned hope is when a lone wolf sings to a moon, as if it'd reach.

A Favorite melody howled the lone wolf so heavenly.

A rhythme being merely, an echo of his heartbeat.

Love is feeling that heartbeat and hearing a melody.

Then singing all the words otherwise too scared to speak.

Three White People walk into bar.

The first is a young man in a Wu-Tang shirt who speaks in ebonics,

Except when it comes to black lives he says what happened to equality. All lives matter to say only black lives is nonsense.

The Second is a women in her 40s, she takes two steps and looks around and makes eye contact with the bartender.

The bartender shakes his head and walks away. She says he should know his place, I'm always right. I want to speak with the manager.

The Third is a older Man who has a box in his night stand, with a white hood and pictures he treasures of him with his clan.

Now theres a red hat that has taken its place, just Politics. So this racism is okay, he says to himself. As he's driving thru the projects with his doors locked, waving at all his neighbors he hates. Wearing the same fake smile, he hates their skin. They hate the place.

What has been learned can also be forgotten.

When black men bawl in cries for life with their deaths by a cops hand,

We mind our business until they kneel before the flag....

Then we blackball them.

As if there is another time that we collectively watch them.

White privilege is "that's not my problem."

Three white people walk into a bar,

If this is the set up for a joke then it's one that has gone too far.